


Every Ending Is a New Beginning

by pique



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-24 09:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pique/pseuds/pique
Summary: Leo has long since known he harbours feelings for Lucho that no player should have for his manager.





	Every Ending Is a New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahhhhrexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhhrexa/gifts).



> A treat/ficlet for ahhhhrexa/[luchorgasm](http://luchorgasm.tumblr.com).
> 
> Here was my original prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Their relationship has had its ups and its downs over the years, but Leo has always harbored feelings for Luis. In the aftermath of Barcelona’s 4-0 defeat in Paris on Valentine’s Day, Leo is hit with the realisation that Lucho might not be around for much longer. He decides it’s now or never if he ever wants things to go further between them._

It’s as though the walls around him are closing in.

Leo has to get out of the dressing room.

He’s witnessed every type of defeat over the years. It’s not as though this is anything new to him. What troubles Leo, is that he didn’t see this one coming. As he wanders through the maze of corridors in the back of the Parc des Princes, the realisation hits him.

Everything is going to change now.

 _Everything_.

Including things he’d really rather stayed the same.

“Where is he?” He asks Unzué, as he appears stony faced a few feet in front of him.

“He’s in the side room, over there,” he replies, gesturing towards a door. “But I wouldn’t bother him if I were you, not unless you want your head snapping off.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

It’s one advantage of being Lionel Messi that he enjoys. Nobody can ever say no to him, even if he’s pushing his luck.

Silently, he presses his body against the door. It betrays him by giving out a squeak as it slides open.

“Who is it?” Lucho asks gruffly, his voice hoarse.

Leo stares at him open mouthed, his hands in his pockets. He’s always made a distinct effort to keep Lucho at arm’s length. It’s rare he lets anyone get close, but he’s particularly sceptical when it comes to coaches.

There were times, especially in the beginning, when Leo would do everything he could to push Lucho’s buttons. He’d scoff at his tactics, or attempt to choreograph entire training sessions, just to see how he’d react. Lucho was defiant. He was the boss, and Leo would listen to him. He’d even bench him if necessary.

After the initial drama, their relationship became one of respect, and ultimately, mutual admiration. That’s where the line started to blur. A line Leo knew he couldn’t cross.

He has long since known he harbours feelings for Lucho that no player should have for his manager.

Now, under the fluorescent lights of this generically decorated side room, Lucho looks distinctly human; fragile and delicate, as though tonight’s defeat has robbed him of his vigour.

Leo wants to protect him, and to tell him that everything will be alright. But he can’t. Perhaps he’s taken Lucho for granted for too long.

“Not now, Leo.” Lucho waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll talk about what happened out there at the recovery session tomorrow, until then, I’m done.”

“That wasn’t what I came here for,” he says quietly.

“Then what was it?” Lucho looks up at him. “I’ve already had the third degree from Piqué. I was surprised he pipped you to the post.”

“It’s… _personal_.” Leo purses his lips together.

Some of the frown lines on Lucho’s forehead melt away. “How can I help you?” He asks, not unkindly.

“Are you going to leave?” Leo’s throat feels tight, he can barely get the words out.

Lucho makes a barely perceptible movement. Leo watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulps, and he slowly licks his lips with his tongue.

“I haven’t got any comment to make about that,” Lucho says.

“This isn’t one of your press conferences.” Leo’s temper starts to fray. “I just need to know.”

Lucho’s eyes widen, and Leo knows he’s perturbed.

“I’m tired, Leo,” he replies lowly. “So very tired.”

Leo glares at him. Lucho opens his mouth as though he’s about to speak, but abruptly changes his mind.

They stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever.

“When the time is right, I’ll speak to the entire squad about what my future holds.” Lucho folds his hands together.

Leo rubs at his beard, trying to gather his thoughts. For once, he wishes Lucho would look at him as a man, and not as a footballer. Surely, he owes him that much. He turns towards the door.

“You shouldn’t let tonight influence your decision,” he says. “It was just one result.”

“What happened tonight is irrelevant.” His shoulders slump, as though he has accepted defeat.

Leo knows then. He knows Lucho is walking away from the club, and consequently, out of his life.

“Stay.” Leo hates everything about the way the single word sounds; the need in his voice and the fact he is on the verge of almost begging.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Lucho’s lips, but he won’t reply.  
  
  
  
  
  
He doesn’t expect to hear from Lucho again that night. He’s even more surprised when he’s summoned to his room.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d get here so quickly,” Lucho says as he answers the door.

“You’d already made up your mind.” Leo’s arms are folded.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were already leaving, even before tonight.” To Leo, the revelation feels like a betrayal.

“Yes.” Lucho nods. “I was.”  
  
Wordlessly, Leo steps into the room.

“Can you just give me a minute?” Lucho asks.

He’s still combing at his wet hair, not taming it any more than it’ll allow him to. Leo thinks he looks delectable like this, all tousled and freshly showered. He can’t pinpoint the scent he’s picking up – it’s woody, spicy and herby. Whatever it is, it suits Lucho down to the ground.

As he stares at him, clothed in a casual grey shirt and checked shorts, Leo feels his body stir. _This shouldn’t be happening_ , he tells himself. _Get a grip_. Besides, he’s still reeling from Lucho’s earlier revelation. He’s leaving, and Leo can’t make him change his mind.

“You asked me to come here,” he says monotonously, not entirely trusting himself.

“Yes, Leo,” he replies. “I did.”

He strides across the room, over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and towards the balcony. Leo follows him, looking out into the night.

Paris on St Valentine’s Day. Leo’s never been particularly romantic, and it’s a terrible cliché. The city hasn’t been especially kind to Barcelona, since they’ll be leaving it with nothing but memories of their 4-0 defeat. Love, he decides, is cruel. Still, he’ll allow himself this moment to imagine what life would be like if he and Lucho were more than just colleagues.

Lucho starts to close the curtains.

“Leave them,” Leo asks him. “Please.”

In the distance, he can make out the Eiffel Tower, sparkling as though it’s a magical, unearthly structure. There are so many lights across the cityscape, red, yellow and orange, blurring into one another. He imagines all the people out there, and wonders if anyone is staring back at their light; the one emitting from the room Lucho and he are standing in right now.

“Do you like it?” Lucho asks, and Leo can see that he too, is taking in the view.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Lucho nods.

“So, you asked me here just to tell me that you’re going away.” There’s a self-depreciating smile on Leo’s lips.

“It wasn’t just that.”

“Then why?”

“I asked you here because I felt like you deserved to know the truth.” Lucho turns to look at him. “The truth about why I’m leaving.”

“Okay.” Leo’s voice is barely more than a croak.

Worry is etched on Lucho’s face. Leo has always found him difficult to read, but he senses that there’s an internal debate going on in his head.

“It’s every manager in the world’s dream to work with you,” Lucho says. “You must know that. Never, in all my years, have I ever come across a player quite like you. I doubt I ever will again.”

These words, Leo knows, are heartfelt. Yet they aren’t the ones he wants to hear. Praise can be a dangerous thing. He learnt long ago not to buy into his own hype.

“Stick around,” Leo replies. “Then, you can continue to work with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Lucho shakes his head. “I _can’t_ keep working with you.”

“I don’t understand.” An ache gnaws away at Leo’s stomach.

Lucho laughs darkly, but there’s sadness in his eyes. “Oh Leo, how did we get to this point? There was a time, not even that long ago, when you were desperate to get rid of me.”

Leo doesn’t deny the accusation. He knows it would be futile.

“Professionally, my natural cycle here has been drawing to a close for some time now,” Lucho says. “On a personal level, things are much more difficult.”

“What do you mean?” Leo asks.

“Managers are many things to their players: mentors, father figures, sometimes even friends. But there are some lines which should never be crossed.” Lucho exhales deeply, staring out into the darkness. “I won’t compromise my integrity because of any personal feelings that I may have, and neither should you.”

Leo starts to shake involuntarily. He can’t even begin to deal with the implications of Lucho’s statement. “Tell me I’m not insane,” he whispers. “Tell me I’m not imagining that there’s this tension between us.”

“You aren’t imagining it.”

For Leo, the clarification comes as a relief.

“But I would never taint your career by mixing work with pleasure. I have far too much respect for you.”

“I have to deal with knowing that you’re leaving because of me.” Leo looks at him guiltily.

“ _Partly_ because of you,” Lucho replies. “But every ending is a new beginning.”

Lucho steps closer, and Leo becomes increasingly aware of the warmth of his body next to his. He stares deeply into Leo’s eyes. This is the way Leo’s always wanted Lucho to look at him – with lust and desire, rather than as his star striker. He will remember the way Lucho’s face looks right now forever.

Slowly, they move towards one another, and Leo lets himself sink into Lucho’s arms. Their lips collide, Lucho’s mouth soft but commanding against his. Leo’s never been kissed by an older man before, and now he’s beginning to realise exactly what he’s been missing out on.

When Lucho pulls back, Leo allows himself a moment to appreciate him.

“What will you do next?” He asks.

“Rest,” Lucho replies. “Who knows? Once I’ve left the club, I might actually sleep through the night.”

Leo looks at him guiltily.

“You can bet on your life that I’ll be cycling, too.” Lucho smiles wistfully.

“I want you to be in my life,” Leo says.

“Perhaps I still will be,” Lucho replies. “My sabbatical can only last so long, you know.”

Leo doesn’t know how long it’ll take for the dust to settle. He just knows he’ll wait until it does.


End file.
